


Angels in the Airwaves Tonight

by shiftylinguini



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Ghost Hunters, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-28 03:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini
Summary: Louis is between jobs. Niall is always along for the ride.





	Angels in the Airwaves Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to the usual suspects for being lovely and reading this through and supporting me in this strange angst fest! This has elements inspired from SPN TV show, but doesn't require being familiar with it to make sense. Lastly, I wasn't sure how to tag this without spoiling it all, but there are some additional tags I haven't included. Skip to the end notes if you're like me and love a spoiler, or if you think you'd like to know a bit more about the mourning tag :)
> 
> I realise this is all a bit niche, so thank you for giving this a go xx
> 
> Title from Angels & Airwaves, by Angelhaze

+

Louis’s car is a piece of shit. 

“It’s not _that_ bad, Niall.” Louis smiles, fiddling with the radio dial. Static fuzzes back at him, snatches of tunes creeping through before they’re gobbled up by the hum and spit of eternally dodgy reception. Niall shakes his head wryly, slumps lower in the passenger seat. He looks comfortable, bad knee resting against the dash. Louis hopes it isn’t giving him trouble. They’ve been cooped up in the car for hours; Louis’s legs are aching, his arse gone numb. 

“It is. It’s not even a lemon.” Niall rubs a hand over his thigh, one finger dipping into a fraying rip. “It’s worse than a lemon. A grapefruit.”

“I like grapefruits.” Louis grins. “I like you.”

Niall laughs, cheeks flushing. Louis’s grin widens. He loves a reaction, and Niall always supplies. Louis whistles as he finally finds a song.

His eyes flit between the road and the foggy moors rolling past them. It’s dead boring out here, but they’re in between jobs and Louis heard a whisper of a haunting. He thinks it’s worth checking out, and Niall, ever accommodating, is along for the ride. Good old Niall. What would Louis do without him. He’d be fucked, that’s what. Louis’s foot jerks on the pedal, panic jolting through him. 

“Easy, Lou.” Niall’s hand hovers in a half-aborted attempt to reach out to touch Louis’s shoulder. It drops silently back into his lap. His smile turns down at the corners. 

“‘m fine. Just tired.” Louis sniffs then straightens his arms out, hands clenched around the wheel. “Sorry.” 

“I could drive for a bit,” Niall suggests softly. Louis feels it like a punch in his chest. 

“You know you can’t drive for us, love.” The words are lead in his mouth, but his voice is a cracked mumble. He concentrates on the road. Grey, and grey, and grey. He can’t think about the way Niall used to drive for them, elbow resting against the open window. 

“Yeah,” Niall mutters eventually. “I know I can’t.”

The road slips by, swallowed by the hood of the car and spat out behind them. Louis keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead of him. 

\+ 

The whisper of a haunting, it turns out, is nothing. 

“Just a fart in the wind,” Niall announces, walking away from 4 Alscott Drive. Louis snorts, then exhales smoke out the corner of his mouth. 

“Yep,” he agrees. “Just a gob of spit in the rain.” 

Niall’s laugh rings out around them. 

Some jobs are just like that. Louis’s been chasing ghosts since he was thirteen, on the road with his mum and sisters even longer. They’ve settled down now, after the second twins came and it got too hard to live out of cars with screaming babies. “I’m too old for that, now, Lou,’ his mum said, and kissed him on the cheek. “Time to settle down for a bit, give being normal a try.” 

Louis couldn’t settle, though. He gets itchy feet, needs to keep moving. He’s always done it alone, too, not even Eleanor along for that ride, although she tried and Louis did love her. It’s a shit life, living on the road and chasing ghosts; Louis doesn’t expect anyone to stick around for that. Not when all they get out of it is him, and his collection of mini shampoos that he’s nicked from Holiday Inns across the country, impressive though it is. 

Except Niall. Niall stuck around without ever having to be asked. 

Louis stubs his cigarette out, lights another straight up. He’s been chaining, lately. He’ll be chaining until his lungs burst. Everyone needs a hobby. Louis sucks down an acrid mouthful, pulls at a split in his lip until he tastes blood. He snatches his hand away. 

“Harry’s pub’s near here, yeah?” Louis wraps his arms around himself, stomps his feet, gets the blood flowing. 

“Your Harry? Has all them weird deer heads and shit on the walls?” 

Louis grunts his assent. “Mmhmm.” He sniffs; maybe he’s getting sick. He both hopes he is and isn’t. He’s feeling rattled, from being cooped up all day, from Niall offering to drive. It’s been weeks since Louis’s slept properly, since Niall came back.

It was infinitely worse when he was gone, though. 

Niall looks thoughtful, then grins. “Alright. Let’s drop in on your weird Harry.” 

+

Louis met Harry on a hunt, back when they were young. They fucked about for a bit, and it was good, but Harry was even more nomadic than Louis. He’s settled now, got a pub and an address, but he still moves like he’s got one foot out the door, on the perpetual verge of an adventure that he might not bring you on. Louis couldn’t deal with that kind of uncertainty in his life, not on top of everything else, but Harry’s good company though. Louis’s got no hard feelings about the relationship that wasn’t. 

Harry’s also one of the few people who knew Louis and Niall as they were, properly. When things were happier, or better, or even just marginally less shit. It stings to remember this. Harry’s pub decor is comfortingly terrible, but as soon as he steps in Louis doesn't want to be there, the wave of nostalgia and bone-deep ache hitting him like the blast of cold air from an air-conditioned room. Harry’s happy to see him but he doesn’t acknowledge Niall, and his 60 watt smile dims a little when Louis orders two beers. 

“You, uh.” Harry bites his lip, voice low as he fills a pint, long hair tickling at his collarbone. “This mean you’re still on the road with Niall?” He sets the first beer in front of Louis, face pinched with concern. Louis’s jaw clenches.

“‘course I am.” The glass is freezing against Louis’s palm. “Be riding with Niall ‘til I'm dead,” he snaps. 

Harry slides the second beer over. He doesn't say anything this time, just pats Louis’s hand, a tap of cold rings on skin. Louis glares into his beer instead of Harry’s face. He’s not in the mood for bleeding-heart Styles. He already feels shit enough. 

“Oi, Lou.” Niall leans into Louis’s space, twisting his face into pinched concern and fluttering his eyelashes. “ _Are_ we still riding together?” he says, a deep and slow imitation of Harry. A laugh startles out of Louis.

“Fuck off.” Louis smiles around the edge of his glass. He can’t keep the laughter there, though. Something's sitting wrong inside him, sloshing around in his stomach with the beer, gone acrid.

He feels gutted. He’s tired, and sad, and Niall is right next to him, but not close enough to touch. The pub is suddenly too crowded, but too empty all the same. Three seats down, a grizzled man is looking at Louis funny, glancing at the empty chair next to him as if trying to see what Louis sees.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, fingers slipping on the cold glass. The deer mounted on the walls stare down at him with their sad, dead eyes, and Niall’s watching him sadly too. Louis suddenly feels ill. He can taste blood in his mouth. He bites at his lip angrily. 

“Louis ―” 

“Need air,” he grits out. 

“Alright.” Niall's voice is small, and Louis’s chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands. 

He leaves a crumpled note on the counter for Harry. Niall’s beer sits next to it, untouched. 

+

Outside, Louis sits on his car bonnet, his head between his knees, bile in his mouth and his heart in his shoes. He knows Niall is next to him; he can feel the way the air is colder where he is. 

Louis wants to cry, and cry. He shivers, tongue pressing insistently against the split in his lip and fingers pressed against his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he tries to laugh, “dunno what’s wrong with me tonight, lad.”

“Louis.” Niall’s voice is close, but sombre. He’s not playing along. “Reckon this would get a bit much for anyone, after a while.” 

“Niall ―”

“We can talk about it. Should, even.” Niall’s leg would be pressed against Louis’s right now, if it could be. If this were ten months ago. Louis presses harder against his eyes, sees stars. 

“No.”

“We can’t avoid it forever.” 

Louis laughs, bitterly, then wipes his nose. “Fucking watch me.” 

“Fuck’s sake, c’mon ―” Niall starts, exasperated, but Louis shakes his head. He can’t look at Niall. His mouth tastes like blood, and he knows he’ll see blood on Niall's collar. The wheels are coming off, spinning away. Louis’s losing his mind, sitting on the hood of his car, just another sad wanker talking to himself, except he’s not, because Niall is fucking _there_. He’s there, and he’s also infinitely far away. 

“I wish I could hug you.” 

“Fuck.” Louis chokes out a sound, feels the sting in his eyes. He tries to blink it away, wipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t, Niall,” he manages. 

It’s selfish, but Louis feels raked raw. He wants to curl into Niall. He can’t handle it when Niall doesn’t play along, doesn’t pretend that’s something they can still do, that there isn’t a divide between them that people have been trying to bridge since Cain slew Abel, since Orpheus tried to bargain Eurydice back out of the dark. That Louis didn’t bury Niall almost a year ago, picked out the clothes for the open casket himself from their shared meagre belongings. 

Niall hops off the car. “I’ll give you a minute,” he mumbles. 

Louis nods, but doesn't watch him, can’t stand to see the blood on the back of his head. It’s barely visible from the front, when Niall’s sat next to him in the car. They cleaned him up for the funeral, remnants of the accident all but gone, except for the red mingled in with the bottle blond, the dark brown roots. Louis’s stomach churns, his chest aches. 

The air around him feels warmer the further Niall walks away. 

+

Once, stoned and spread out on messy motel sheets, Louis promised to haunt Niall. 

“Don't talk shit,” Niall giggled, pushing Louis’s messy fringe off his sweat-tacky forehead, then pulled it right back into Louis’s eyes. “You talk endless shit when you’re high.”

“And when I’m not.” Louis leant down, kissed the corner of Niall's mouth then licked his cheek. He left his lips there, Niall's skin vibrating against his Louis's mouth as he laughed. “What’s your excuse?” he mumbled.

“What?” Niall laughed harder, then groaned as Louis obnoxiously dropped his weight onto him. “I don’t need an excuse, you’re the one who’s ―”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Louis rolled off, pulling Niall with him. He dropped his hand onto Niall’s cheek, let it slide to his neck. “Shush, I’m being profound. Anyway, I’ll be like whatsit. In those books you love, Harry Potter.” Louis lowered his voice, did his best posh accent. “ _The ones that love us never really leave us, Harry_.” 

Niall's eyes crinkled to happy slits. “Uh huh, wow. Those acting classes really paying off, Lou, feel like I’m in Hogwarts.”

“Fuck you!” Louis pinched Niall’s ribs, did it again as Niall tried to squirm away. “Anyway, that’ll be me. All haunting you and shit, if I kick the bucket. Doing accents at you, even though you don’t appreciate by talent, you shit.” 

“And what if I do first?” Niall grabbed Louis’s hands, pinned them to the bed until Louis finally stilled. 

Louis scoffed. “Now who’s talking shit.” Louis arched into the touch when Niall ran his fingers down his bare side.

“I’m serious. What if I’m the first bucket-kicker.”

“You won’t be.”

“Louis ―” 

“Fine.” Louis pretended to huff, face down against the pillow. “I’d just make you haunt me.” 

Niall hummed, fingers resting on the knobs of Louis’s spine like he’s playing chords. “I could probably do that.” Niall’s cheeks were ruddy, his eyes bright and face flushed. Louis wanted to kiss all of him. “Is this you saying you love me, then?” Niall settled more fully on his stomach. “In a roundabout, really morbid way?

Louis smushed his face further into his pillow. “Might be,” he mumbled into his mouthful of cotton. 

Niall leant up on one elbow, grinning. “Sorry, what was that, did you say ―”

“You heard me.”

“I did.” Niall kissed Louis’s shoulder. “Say it again, though,” he whispered, kissing down to the dip of Louis’s back. 

And Louis did. 

+

“Do you want me to go?”

The rising sun is bright and insistent, as Louis and Niall sit in his car. Louis isn’t sure if he’s slept; he doesn’t remember Niall getting in. He’s hungry, desperate for a smoke and a cup of tea, and to run his hands through Niall’s hair. He settles for just looking at it. It stirs something inside him, something rumbling and sore, but it doesn’t hurt like last night. Nothing ever looks as bad in the cold morning light.

“I can leave.” Niall’s voice is tiny. Louis frowns. 

“Leave?”

“Yeah.” Niall laughs, nervous.

“Are you even really here?” Louis asks softly. Niall flinches, and Louis instantly regrets it. “I’m sorry, I ―” “I don’t know where I am.” Niall pulls his feet up onto the seat. “But you know how this works. You can make me leave, properly. For good. It’s what we do.” Niall clears his throat. “Did. What we did.” Louis’s frown deepens, but he keeps his mouth shut for once. He knows what Niall means. Louis turns the key in the ignition. “I think there’s a job in Inverness,” he croaks. “Had a text from Mum yesterday, she’s been reading the papers. We could.” Louis clears his throat. “I don’t want you to go,” he says, voice cracking. 

It’s the aching truth. Niall’s dead, and Louis’s losing it, but he never wants Niall gone. He knows that’s the reason Niall’s here, that Louis’s the tether stopping him from moving on to whatever awaits pale ghosts who die in a country that’s not their own. It eats Louis up, and it keeps him alive. 

“Hey,” Louis traces a finger around the shape of Niall’s cheek, just shy of touching it. He can't wait to be able to touch him properly again, to smell and taste him. When Louis bites the dust, he's going to swan out of the grave and hug Niall's ghostly little body so tight his head pops off, and then shag his ethereal brains out in the backseat of his car. Just like they used to. “Stay.” Niall nods, kisses the air near Louis’s fingertips. Louis smiles a watery shape at him, then barks a laugh when Niall says, “Get the fucking radio working, then, yeah?” Louis reaches for the radio dial. Familiar, foggy static fills the car, bits and pieces of stolen music creeping through. Niall settles lower in the passenger seat, as Louis presses his foot down. And the road goes on. 

+

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags: Niall died prior to the events here, and is a ghost, and Louis is still grieving/coping with him being gone-but-not-gone.
> 
> say hello to me on [tumblr](https://shiftylinguini.tumblr.com/) if you like xxx


End file.
